


Worthy

by tuliptoes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Azor Ahai, F/M, The Long Night, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:20:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26217793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuliptoes/pseuds/tuliptoes
Summary: Brienne of Tarth faces The Night King during the Long Night.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 26
Kudos: 106





	Worthy

**Author's Note:**

> I've read of one theory that Brienne is Azor Ahai, and while I don't think canon is going to go there, I liked the idea that her magic sword is the key to victory, so I wrote a one shot about that.
> 
> It's mostly show canon, but one big difference is the knighting scene did not happen (I love the scene, but it didn't fit the narrative).
> 
> I'm on tumblr at albratrossisland.

_We can't win_

Brienne gripped Oathkeeper tight in her hands as she slashed at wight after wight in front of her. She looked beyond them, and saw an unending sea of wights, charging at her, charging at anything alive, trying to remake the world into a land built only for the dead.

And the dead were winning.

She tried to keep the thought away, to bury it inside her, but she’d seen her own soldiers fall to this army that wouldn’t, couldn’t be stopped.

She’d lost track of both Ser Jaime and Pod in the swarm, and her heart ached, hoping they were alright, praying to any god that would listen to save the people she valued most, but it was so dark, not even the gods could hear her prayer out here.

She tried to find her anger, tried to let it fuel her as she brought down the wights in her path, but it wasn’t there, the cold in the night seemed to have infected her blood, she couldn’t feel anything, not fear or anger or battle lust, just a slow despair, creeping through her body. Even as she kept swinging her sword, she knew that it would not be enough, she would not be enough to save them.

_We can’t win_

She swung her sword again, Jaime’s sword, the sword he’d given her to protect Sansa, the sword meant for him, and she nearly collapsed under the weight of the idea of her wight self wielding his sword.

_No, no, they will not have it. I won’t permit it._

She charged the wights in front of her, and they scattered around her, repulsed by her new energy, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw why.

He was here, right here in front of her, she’d made it so far, and The Night King stood in her path.

His eyes were cold and blue, blue like hers, but her eyes were Tarth and Evenfall, cliff jumping in the summer, Galladon holding her arms as he swung her around, her father’s small smile as he handed her her first sword.

His eyes were freezing death and destruction, a frozen empty wasteland that he’ll rule for all time. She’d never seen anything more empty, and she did the only thing she could think to do.

She charged.

She swung her magic sword downward across his chest, praying again that she could win, that it was magic and that it would be enough, that even if she died in the attempt, that there could be people left who could sing a song of the lady warrior from Tarth who died to save the world.

_What a song that would be._

She felt the force of her sword hitting his body, she felt the blade tremble in her hand right before it broke against his armor.

She looked into his eyes again, she saw her own fear reflected back at her, her death was staring at her, and she felt her own heart break at her last failure.

She looked to her left, and she could swear that even in the dark of this endless night, she could see Jaime, fighting to reach her, to help her finish the task that she wasn’t worthy of.

She closed her eyes, tried to picture Pod in their first training session, the boy had needed so much help, and he’d done it, he’d become the soldier he’d always wanted to be. She wanted that memory on her mind when the end came.

But it didn’t come.

She opened her eyes, and saw the Night King’s dagger in his hand pointed at her chest, but it didn’t move.

The battlefield went silent as the world around her froze in place.

“You can’t win like this, but you can win.”

The voice was everywhere around her, the only sound in the whole wide world, and it echoed off her skull, off her chest, off the very ground as the words reverberated around her.

“What would you sacrifice to win?”

_Anything_

She’d give up her hands, her very body, she would watch her whole island burn in order to ensure that somewhere, people could live and breath and die unafraid of these monsters.

“Anything?” 

The question sang out as a shaft of light fell onto a single point in the crowd. Jaime was surrounded by wights, his right arm shielding his face as his left, his clumsy left, fended off the hoard that had chosen to attack him.

Her hand clenched around Oathkeeper, surprised that she was still clutching the hilt. She dropped it and took a step toward him, her heart aching to help him, even as she knew the right answer.

“Yes.”

The word was too heavy for her body to carry, she whispered the horrible word into the void, hoping that no one would hear the word she hated most in the world.

“He loves you.”

_She felt a hand on her wrist as she walked down the hall, toward the battle, toward her doom, but it was a battle that must be fought, they had no chance, but there was no choice._

_She was not surprised to see Jaime’s hand gripping her arm, and she followed him without question as he pulled her into a shadowy alcove. He stared at her for an age, his green eyes boring into her, as if he was trying to tell her all the words they could not say with just his eyes._

_And then he kissed her._

_It was soft and quick, his lips brushed against hers for one second, and he smirked at her as he stepped back from her._

_“Just in case,” he said, and she blushed as he walked away._

She had not forgotten, but she’d put the moment away, there wasn’t time to feel anything about it, there was a war to wage.

But now, she couldn’t stop her brain from pulling her back to that alcove, feeling his warm, chapped lips on hers. It had felt like a dream, like her heart was giving her what she most needed right before it crushed her, but it had happened.

“Would you give up his love to save the world?”

She rolled the words around in her mind, trying to understand them, but coming up with nothing. He could die, yes, so could she, she was moments from the end of her life at this very second, but he had kissed her, nothing could take that away.

Nothing.

“How could I give that up?” she asked, not expecting an answer, but needing just a moment to try to understand what was happening to her.

“If he doesn’t love you, if he is whole, you will win.”

_He is whole._

She had told him that, as he lay dying, delirious with fever, after the Bloody Mummers had taken his hand, as he tried to let himself surrender to their monstrousness. He could not be the same, but that didn’t make him lesser, she told him that over and over, whispering the words as he dreamed. She was sure he wouldn’t remember, but she had hoped the words would sink in enough to keep him alive, if only for one more night.

A darkness spread in front of her, and all she could see was a ghost of the man who loved her, golden and shining, wielding Oathkeeper like he was born for that and nothing else, and he slashed at the Night King, and the monster fell before the golden man standing in front of him.

He was alive and shining, a look of pure righteousness on his face. Here was a man who would not be tempted by darkness or despair. Here was a man whose sword would not break.

_Here was a man who would never love me._

“Which will you choose, the man who loves you or the whole world?”

_No_

_No, you cannot take that, you cannot take him, I won’t let you._

She took a breath and let a single tear fall down her face.

It was no choice, it was the only choice. Her choice would kill her spirit eventually, but she would survive it first, she could die later. After he saved the world, she could be free to let her broken heart break the rest of her.

She felt her breath being pulled out of her chest as her feet left the ground. She was being pulled up, pulled backwards, she closed her eyes, trying to shut down her tears, trying to swallow her heartbreak as the earth spun out beneath her.

She felt the sun on her face as she heard a bird call. She opened her eyes and saw a bridge, _the_ bridge, where they had their only true fight all those years ago, and he was chained, hobbling his way to the sword that he would stab her with.

Her leg ached at the memory, but it shouldn't have, it hasn't happened yet, there's still a chance.

He leaned down to pick up the sword, and she could almost feel his joy at holding one again. It had been a year for him, but five years for her, and she wanted to weep at how happy he was, even if she knew he was only thinking about escape.

He sneered at her as he held the sword in his arms, daring her to attack. She almost smiled at the memory of his next words.

Her eyes drifted downward, yes, they could make it down to the water, the mummers might not know they are here, they might be able to hide from them down there.

"Come on, come on -"

"Yes, Ser Jaime, keep the sword we'll need it, follow me."

She did not look back at him as she made her way down the slope. It was rougher than she would have liked, and so very muddy, but there was nothing to be done. She'd be filthy, so would he, but she'd get him out of here this time.

_I swear it._

She settled herself under the bridge as she waited for him to join her. She tried to remember where they were at this point, but there was nothing. They'd just have to go south and east until they hit King's Landing. It would be long, it had been long the first time too, but if that's what it took, then so be it.

She heard him, following her path, and like her, slipping in the mud as he landed face down on the riverbank.

“Fuck,” he screamed as he got himself up. He’d held onto the sword at least, but she noticed his chains, she remembered that yes, he was her prisoner, only later were they both prisoners, unlikely allies against the mummers.

_And now that won’t happen at all_

She held out her hand, her left, an old habit with him, to help him up, and he took her hand, his grip still strong despite his year of captivity.

He smiled at her as he straightened himself. She saw his wrist movement first, and she knew what was coming, she had time to draw her sword, but she held back.

He held the blade to her neck, and she looked at him, not even trying to hide the hurt in her eyes. He couldn’t look at her, almost like he loathed himself for what he was doing, but he did not drop his sword.

“Ser Jaime, please -”

“Stop that,” he snapped at her as his mouth settled into a hard line. “Flattery is not the way to get me to spare your life, Wench.”

_My name is Brienne_

The words were almost a reflex, how many times had she told him that, but this time she stayed silent. She had forgotten what it was like to not trust him, for him not to trust her. 

_We were so young, and we never knew._

She looked up and the bridge was rattling, dust falling on them from the wooden planks above. She brought her hand up to her mouth, urging him to be silent, for once to just be quiet and not be reckless. 

And for once, he was. 

They waited for what felt like hours as this group went by, and she prayed to the Warrior and the Mother, even the Stranger himself, that it was the mummers, that they were on their way somewhere else, that she could keep him safe.

She remembered those horrible days after Jaime’s maiming, how those awful men laughed as she cared for him, there were so many of them, and they were always sneering at her, mocking the dying man in her arms, waiting for a moment they could hurt them more. 

There were so many, and they came and went, it was impossible to know their numbers for sure, and now it sounded like all of them were passing overhead as the man they had once tormented held a stolen sword to her throat.

As the last cart passed, she felt a prick at her throat, a scar she didn’t have before.

“I should just kill you now, get it over with,” he nearly spat the words at her, almost like he was angry at the idea of showing her mercy.

“You swore a vow, Ser Jaime,” she said the words calmly, hoping he couldn’t hear how hard her heart was pounding. 

“You swore to never raise arms against the Starks or the Tullys, and I took Lady Catelyn as my liegewoman.”

“Lannisters lie, Wench,” he said as he smirked at her, stepping toward her but keeping the sword level.

“Not you,” she whispered.

He scowled at her, his nostrils flared, insulted by her faith in him.

“What say we make a truce?” she asked him, looking him in the eye, hoping to finally reach him by repeating the words he'd once said to her, and now never would.

“You need trust to have a truce!” He screamed the words at her as he pulled the sword down, nicking her chest plate, but leaving her unharmed. He thrashed the sword around, letting out some anger and frustration against an invisible foe.

She watched his footwork, even chained he knew how to move to be as deadly as possible, she felt his sword tip bite into her thigh again as if it had just happened.

But he was right, he needed her trust, and she needed him to trust her.

She leaned down, prodding a key out of a secret pocket in her boot.

He was still thrashing, getting used to the feel of the metal in his hands after all this time.

“Ser Jaime,” she said, as she held up the key for him to see. “If you drop the sword, I’ll unchain you.”

His eyes widened, and he dropped his sword like she had shocked him.

She knelt in front of him, unchaining his feet first. She half expected him to kick her and run, but she had to hope he was past those urges.

She stood up, and he held her hands out to him, his arms nearly shaking in anticipation. 

Before, as he lost his hand, he hadn’t been unchained, and she remembered the sound of his scream as it tore across the night sky. She winced at the sound of the metal breaking away from his swollen flesh, and she shuddered as the chains fell to the ground and he massaged his aching wrists.

_He will never know what he gained here today, what he didn’t lose._

She held back a sob as she gathered his chains in her arms and threw them into the river.

Her heart ached as he knelt at the water, rinsing the last pieces of the Riverrun dungeon off his skin.

She thought of Lady Catelyn, she was still alive, but she was in the wrong direction, and she was here to save Jaime, not her. Her chest clenched at the thought of losing her again, but it had already happened once, she lied to herself, it wouldn’t hurt as much the second time.

He looked at her, and she saw the man she loved again, she saw his whole future ahead of him.

They would stay here until nightfall, then creep along the riverbank, until she was sure the mummers were no longer a threat. 

And they would run into trouble, because of course they would, but they would make it, he would get back to his family, his children, the queen he loved, maybe they would make it in time to save Joffrey, maybe there would be no need for Sansa to disappear and for her to go chasing after her. 

He would be a knight again, and maybe he would tell her about Aerys as they made their way home, maybe he would still be fond of her, the lady warrior who swore to keep him safe at any cost, the lady warrior who paid the highest price for his safety.

This Jaime would never love her, but he would save the world, and that was worth it, he was worthy of her sacrifice.

She closed her eyes, holding back her tears as she told herself losing his love was worth the whole world.

_My heart can be broken, as long as he is whole._

Her head started to pound, beating in tune with her heartbeat, and she grabbed her skull, but it was no use, the pain was everywhere, coursing through her veins, ripping her apart.

She heard screaming, and it was her voice screaming, but she sounded so far away.

_You have chosen._

The words pulsed in her brain, and her breath caught in her throat as the bitter chill of winter caught a hold of her lungs.

_You are worthy._

She opened her eyes, and she was back, facing the Night King, with Oathkeeper gripped in her hands.

But it wasn’t Oathkeeper anymore.

She looked at her sword, and the blade was glowing orange and red, the beating heart of all of Westeros held steady in her grip, soaking up all the light left in the world.

She saw something that looked like fear in the Night King’s eyes as she thrust the blade into his chest.

The blade held, the fire coursing through the metal turning his deathly blue skin to bright yellow, melting him from within.

He let out a cry as she twisted the sword, a cry that echoed across the north as his creatures joined him in their collective death rattle.

And it was over.

The dead around them cried out for one final second, and then they fell as the fog of night lifted and Brienne saw the first tips of the sun as it prepared to rise.

Her sword, Jaime's sword, was still aflame, but it was fading as the dawn approached.

She felt a hand clutch her arm, and she saw Jaime for a second before he pulled her to him, holding her in his arms.

He released her, and he tried to wipe a tear from her face, but even after all these years, he still led with his right, and she shivered as his golden hand brushed a snowflake from her face.

_But I saved him._

She had given him up, it was supposed to be him, he was the worthy one, not her.

_You already saved him._

The voice was soft, distant, she knew she would never hear it again.

_You sacrificed what you valued most._

_You are worthy._

And it was gone, and Jaime was here, and she loved him, and he loved her, and the cost of their victory was enormous, but the dawn was here at last, and they had all paid dearly for it, and it was theirs now forever.


End file.
